A Shifting of Allegiances
by Indigo Tantarian
Summary: Clearly, a lot was going on at Unseen University before the events of Unseen Academicals. What caused the schism in the staff, specifically Ridcully vs. the former Dean and Ponder vs. Adrian Turnipseed?


Note: I wanted to get into some more Discworld writing, and it seems I'm destined to gravitate towards wizards, at least for the moment (we all know how round things attract other things to orbit around them). As usual, I feel parts of it could be presented better, but I'm generally pleased with the end result. This one is set before _Unseen Academicals_, because I feel like there was a lot in there that could be further explored.

All characters and places belong to Terry Pratchett.

_**A Shifting of Allegiances**_

The sun glinted off the dome of the Unseen University's library. Even in this weather, figures could be seen darting from rooftop to rooftop. One suddenly lost its footing, slipped, and scrambled for purchase on the smooth tiles. Lord Vetinari watched from his window high above as the luckless trainee assassin tumbled into a dark alley in the Shades, then the ruler turned back to his desk.

There were, as always, numerous neatly-stacked piles before him. Paperclips and notes stuck out here and there, but only to a measured distance. Each paper, each file, was perfectly aligned with the others. But as this was nothing out of the ordinary, it was not worth noting. The patrician picked up the top paper, a copy of a clacks message from the mayor of Pseudopolis to the Archchancellor of the Unseen University, and scanned it briefly. Then he glanced out the window again. The sun still glittered. The Tower of Art still rose high above the city as it had done for centuries, unchanged but for the occasional falling stone, freed at last from its crumbling mortar.

There was a large explosion from the Alchemists' Guild. Lord Vetinari gave a small smile and turned back to his head clerk, who hovered silently as ever.

"Drumknott, I will need a clacks message sent in response to this. But first, send a coach to the Braseneck Conjurers' College in the Street of Alchemists. Let Mr. Flemging know that he has a meeting in the Oblong Office at his earliest convenience. Please tell him there is no rush."

"Of course, my lord."

"And then… one more, I think." Vetinari tapped his ring lightly on his desk a few times, then smiled. It was a bit like a tiger who had happened upon a daycare field trip.

As the large man entered the Bunch of Grapes, he glanced around shiftily and sidled along the wall to the far corner. His mouth moved now and then, and those he slipped past may have heard something along the lines of 'hut!' or 'yo.' When he reached the empty table in the corner, he slid onto the bench along the wall, as the chairs seemed rather rickety. Sharp eyes scanned the room. The other patrons looked away, because even hatless, this was clearly a wizard. The Dean of Pentacles, to the practiced wizard-spotter.

A small, slight figure drifted over and made a little bow before perching on a chair across from the wizard.

"Ingrot Flemging. So glad you could make it. Can I order you something to eat?" asked the smaller man.

"I should say so! I'm missing second supper for this, you know," the big man replied a bit testily.

"Well?"

"Well?" the wizard repeated, staring at the other man blankly for a long moment. Then suspicion dawned. "You aren't suggesting that I pick and choose, are you? Good gracious, man, they print the whole slew of it on the wall for a reason, you know!"

"Er… but that's just the menu…" the other protested weakly.

"My point exactly. Ho there, my girl!" the Dean boomed out over the crowd, gesturing expansively to a barmaid. "One full menu over here, and be quick about it. Were you wanting anything, man?"

"Ah… no, I… don't think so."

"Shame, it looks like you could use some meat on your bones. But I suppose you'd like to get down to business."

"Yes…" Flemging inhaled slowly.

"You run that little conjuring school in the Street of Alchemists, don't you?"

"That's correct."

"Well I expect you were wanting some help with your little endeavor, then." The Dean swelled pompously, a magnanimous smile on his face.

"Ah… you MIGHT say that," Flemging hedged. "In fact, we are looking to expand."

"Well that's a worthy goal, of course. I can't see what it has to do with me, though. I say, do you see the girl with my supper yet?"

"Er, no," said the smaller man, sweating. "I just… er… wondered.. if you feel your potential is being fully realized in your current situation."

"Oh, there she is," the wizard said blithely. "Shame she only has the two hands, eh? But I can't say I see your point about my situation. Or what business it is of yours."

"Well…" Ingrot hemmed as a rather annoyed waitress slapped two plates down before the Dean and then went back for more. "I only wondered if you were completely satisfied with the leadership at Unseen University, and your place in the hierarchy."

The fork hesitated, inches from the Dean's mouth, just for a split second.

"I really can't say it's been an issue lately," the wizard said carefully, around a mouthful of meat. "Oh, in the old days, certainly. Mustrum may be rather provincial, but he's held everything in its proper place quite admirably since he arrived."

Flemging straightened up marginally and looked the Dean in the eye. "Indeed he has. It seems he's held some extremely skilled, valuable members of the staff down, when the natural order of wizardry dictates that they should be rising higher in accordance with their own potential."

The Dean was chewing slowly. A frown was growing on his forehead. "Let's speak plainly. What are you getting at?"

Flemging took from his pocket a sheaf of papers and slid it across the table, his slightly watery (but rapidly solidifying) eyes never leaving the Dean's. "You know Braseneck was always a very small affair, barely making ends meet. Recently we were offered a large grant by the mayor of Pseudopolis to start up a university of our own. The problem is…"

"All the wizards worth their dinners are already spoken for by UU," said the Dean, his eyes glimmering in the dim room.

"That's… true," Flemging admitted with some effort. "Which is why when I received the message, I thought of you folks at UU. And I thought of who might have been… passed over for a well-deserved promotion in the past."

The Dean said nothing, but gravely opened the sheaf of papers as he shoveled down some mashed potatoes. His eyes widened alarmingly, then narrowed in haughty contempt.

"If you think you can lure me away from my alma pater, my home, my dear colleagues, with a mere offer of MONEY…" he began.

"Not at all," Flemging interrupted smoothly. "Your salary would only be the Archchancellor's due, after all."

Again, the Dean stopped, open-mouthed. He slowly took a mouthful of stew (best not to ask what kind) and chewed it thoroughly. "Are you… suggesting that I take the reins of a green, upstart institution?" he asked.

"I am asking you to take the little school we've built, to make it your own, and to make it a model of academic excellence." The watery eyes had turned out to be full of kerosene, and it had just been set ablaze. "To take the position you deserve, after years of downtrodden servitude – "

"I wouldn't go that far," the Dean murmured, eyes glazed over.

"And to create a fine University that will outshine the crumbling stones of Unseen!" Flemging finished triumphantly.

Both men exhaled. The Dean took a long drink of wine and glanced down at the papers before him again.

"Of course, it's a major decision," he finally said. "The very idea is treasonous. And anyway, I couldn't be expected to run any sort of University, much less a rival to UU, alone."

"We would encourage you to bring alone a staff of your choosing, naturally," Flemging added hurriedly. "I'll send the mayor a clacks, asking for more information on facilities and salaries."

"Still, I'm not disloyal to my old home," the Dean said. "I couldn't possibly even give you an answer today."

"I can – " Flemging started, but the larger man wasn't paying attention anymore.

"I'll contact you within the month. Need time to digest all this, consider… ponder… my options. Mustrum won't like it. No, not at all." There was a gleam in his eye.

A few weeks later in the High Energy Magic Building, Ponder Stibbons and his department were taking measurements. Ants ran through Hex's tubes at an average distance of 2.2 millimeters apart. This might be important. It was hard to tell.

"I'm sure there must be a way to make the ants more efficient," Ponder muttered, checking off boxes on his clipboard. "Or even a completely new, non-arthropodic method. I wonder if we could use something larger."

"Like rats?" suggested Adrian Turnipseed, looking over Ponder's shoulder.

"Possibly. Although rats would almost definitely try to attack the mouse, and they have too much of a tendency towards independent thought. Some sort of bird, though… maybe chickens."

The door was thrown open as Hex started printing something. Ponder sighed, and Adrian and the students scurried out of the way as the Dean strode in."

"Can I help you, Dean?" Ponder asked, resigned to his fate.

"I hope you can, young Stibbons," the Dean replied, ignoring the younger man's sudden stiffening. "You know, I've often said that you're a credit to this fine institution. I really don't know how we would get by without you."

"I've often thought that, myself, sir," said Ponder, turning to Hex to hide the rolling of his eyes. "What is it you need today?"

The Dean looked around conspiratorially. "I have… an offer for you, young man. Could really push you up the ladder, if you catch my drift."

"I'm not sure I do, sir."

"I've been offered a… promotion, you might say." The larger wizard's voice dropped. "And I'd like to offer you the same thing." He handed Ponder a folded sheaf of paper, with a few drops of something brown drying on it. "It seems to me that such a valuable member of the council should not be passed over for advancement so often. I feel you might flourish more in a new environment, and with better leadership."

Ponder's frown deepened as he scanned the paper. "Are you suggesting… I leave Unseen University for this little… nowhere-school in Pseudopolis? Isn't Braseneck that conjurers' college over in the Street of Alchemists?"

"Times are changing, my boy," the Dean said paternally, again ignoring Ponder's reaction to this. "Between my vision and your… numerous fine qualities, I'm sure, we'll surpass UU within five years."

"What about my staff?" Ponder asked quietly, voice trembling slightly. "What about Hex? And the University?"

"Oh, you can bring your staff along, of course," the Dean said generously. "And make a new Hex. A better one, without the constraints of this tired old institution." He patted Ponder on the shoulder encouragingly.

Ponder whirled around, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "How DARE you, Dean!?" he snarled. "Ask me to turn my back on all of this, everything I've done here, all my work and my… my people? How could you even think of…" He shook his head, unable to fully articulate his incredulity.

"Here now, Stibbons, I'm not sure I like your tone." The Dean had taken a half-step back.

"My TONE!?" The sheaf of paper burst into flames. It looked like Ponder might be next.

"Well, really!" complained the Dean, sweating. "It was only an invitation!"

Ponder took two deep breaths and managed to compose himself. "I apologize for that, Dean," he said calmly. "But I'm afraid my answer is no, and I'd urge you to reconsider your own decision as well."

"Did you see the pay, though?" asked the Dean.

"No. I didn't," Ponder replied flatly.

"Ah. Well. In that case, I don't suppose you'd mind me talking with your staff?"

"If you like," Stibbons said coolly. "I'm sure you'll find their priorities are in the right place. Oh, and I think you'll soon discover that Hex is too large to move."

"I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort," the Dean said quickly, his eyes hastily darting away from the huge thinking machine. The bees buzzed behind their wall.

Well if there's nothing else that you want, I think your business here is finished."

"I should – "

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Yes. Well. Good day, Stibbons."

Ponder stood stock-still as the Dean left. Then his eyes fell on Hex's last printout.

"…Oh, of course," he murmured to himself. "The Blit-Slood Interface would need adjustment. No chickens, then."

+++Will you speak to the Archchancellor?+++

"I should," Ponder sighed miserably. "But not until after dinner. I can't bring up something like this until he's eaten."

+++That would be advisable.+++

Adrian Turnipseed was just returning from a timely skulk to Wizards' Pleasaunce when a large hand caught the hood of his robe. He turned, and came face-to-face with the Dean.

"I'm quite sure I've seen you about the High Energy Magic Building, young man," said the Dean. "Ah… do you have a name?"

"Yes, sir. Turnipseed, sir," the younger man gulped. "Adrian Turnipseed."

"Yes, right. Well young man, would I be correct in assuming that you do a great deal of work with that Hex?"

"Er… yes, sir."

"Well done, well done! Excellent. But I wonder… if you make such substantial contributions, why is it that Stibbons is the one always getting the credit?"

"Well… Ponder does more of the calculations and planning. And he's better at explaining… certain things."

"While he has you do all the real work, you mean," said the Dean, patting Adrian on the shoulder.

"Oh no, I wouldn't say I do all the work…"

"Come now, my boy!" The Dean slapped Adrian on the back, nearly knocking him flat on his face. "No need to be modest! I expect in the right environment, you could outshine Stibbons by a mile. You just need… room to grow. In fact, I expect you and I have a great deal in common."

"Do we?" Adrian was looking around nervously.

"Indeed we do. Why don't you join me for dinner, lad? I have some things to tell you that you might find very interesting." The Dean put his arm around Turnipseen's shoulders and steered him towards the smell of food.

+++Melon+++

+++Melon+++

+++Out of Cheese Error: Redo from Start+++

"Er… Ponder?"

Ponder Stibbons emerged from his trepidations. "Oh. Yes, Adrian?"

"I… need to talk to you about something. Do you have a minute?"

"Well... I need to talk with the Archchancellor… but honestly, I wouldn't mind putting it off for a while. What is it?"

"Er… well… I saw that the Dean came in again today. Did – What did he want?"

"Oh." Ponder's face darkened. "He tried to offer me a position at that new university in Pseudopolis."

"But you said no."

"Of course I said no. I can't just… go running off, and leave all the work I've done here."

"Right… Did he say anything else?" Adrian swallowed nervously, but Ponder didn't notice.

"He said he might ask you and the others. So just… keep an eye out for him."

"What… do you want us to say to him?" Adrian asked, wiping his sweating palms on his sleeves.

"Tell him the truth, of course," Ponder said chillily. "I told him that he could ask anyone he liked, and he'd have his answer."

"Really?" Adrian looked incredulous.

"Of course! He has my answer, and he'll have yours. You and the rest of the department are all trustworthy and intelligent individuals, fully capable of making your own decisions, no matter what anyone else might say. I think I know my own staff, after all," Ponder said with a smug smile.

"That's… so understanding of you!" Adrian returned Ponder's smile eagerly. "He said you would try to hold me back, and of course I wouldn't believe that of you, but I was afraid…"

Ponder's face suddenly went wooden, his eyes blank. His jaw seemed cemented shut.

"But it's really so open-minded of you to allow this!" Adrian babbled in relief. "I've always said what a good, generous person you are, and a fantastic leader for our department. I'm really looking forward to being able to work with you as an equal and a colleague. We can exchange ideas! We can…"

Adrian continued on in the same vein for some time. Ponder barely heard. He stood there, numb, eyes glazed over, an overwhelming roaring filling his ears.

Eventually, a clatter woke Ponder from his reverie. A student guiltily snatched up his fork from the floor and scuttled away from the wizard's hollow eyes. Most of the seats were now empty. Adrian Turnipseed had apparently left a while ago.

The youngest member of the council took an unsteady step, staggered, and caught himself on the wall. He took a few steps towards the stairs and swayed. His head dropped for a moment, and a faint sound emerged from his mouth. Then he turned and strode away towards the High Energy Magic Building.

"It will have to wait."

Rincewind was on his way to the upper levels of the University the next morning when he heard the bellow. The wizzard jumped and tried to flee, but he ran headlong into Ponder Stibbons, who was hurrying after Ridcully. The Archchancellor raged ahead, unheeding of Ponder's attempts to stop him.

"Traitor!" Ridcully roared. "Weak-minded coward! Treasonous fool! Show yourself, Dean!"

While Rincewind and Ponder were disentangling themselves, the Dean stepped around the corner, swollen with self-righteousness.

"Ah, Mustrum," the Dean said, calm but read for trouble. "I was just looking for you."

"I'll just bet you were, you two-faced dog," Ridcully snarled. "What's this I hear about you poaching my faculty and starting your own university? Ridiculous!"

Rincewind chose that moment to try to slip away, but found it quite impossible. The bulk of angry wizards filled the hallway. The Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography whimpered and pressed against a wall.

A crowd of wizards appeared from around the corner to investigate the noise, and screeched to a halt. Ridcully's eyes flicked to them, then back to the Dean, who was now heaving with indignation.

"Really, Mustrum!" the Dean huffed. "Those injurious remarks are hardly necessary!"

"Explain yourself," the Archchancellor spat. "I don't hear you denying anything."

"Gladly. I was offered the position of Archchancellor at the up-and-coming Braseneck University in Pseudopolis, and asked to bring along any staff who shared my hopes for the future. And I was quite pleased to find that indeed I was not alone in my vision."

"Why you – " Ridcully's fists balled up. Sparks flew between the two wizards.

"Stop!" Ponder cried out, startling them both. He urgently whispered in Ridcully's ear. Rincewind finally managed to squeeze out around the Dean, and bowled through the small crowd of watchers, knocking many over. They followed after him, complaining loudly. In a minute, the three men were alone in the hallway again.

Ridcully had cooled off a bit, but it was similar to a bar of molten steel being plunged into cold water. It only produced hardness through all the steam. The Archchancellor drew himself up to his full height.

"Well then. Now that I know where your allegiances lie, there's no reason for you to stay here any longer. You know very well that only the faculty and staff of Unseen University is welcome within these hallowed halls."

The Dean opened his mouth for a retort, but an icy command cut him off.

"Out. Take any traitors you can find, we certainly don't want them here."

The Dean sniffed and drew himself up tall to match Ridcully. He turned gravely and processed down the stairs with all the dignity of a deposed prince.

Ridcully and Ponder remained, stiff and trembling.

"Stibbons," the Archchancellor growled through clenched teeth.

Ponder didn't respond, but his whole being was taut as a bow-string.

"To the squash courts. Now." He caught the younger wizard's elbow as he stalked down the hall. Ponder nearly fell, but caught the outraged rhythm on the third stride.

The Bursar, momentarily passing through the appropriate reality, cautiously stuck his head out of his door.

"A – Archchancellor," he quavered. "I wonder if you've had time to review the budget for – "

"Not now, Bursar," snarled Ridcully, slamming the door shut in his face and knocking him backwards.

The two wizards continued their march all the way down to the squash courts, which safely contained anything inside. The Bursar whimpered softly, rubbed his bruised face, and went to find another lock for his door.


End file.
